


Find your own way

by Hypatia_66



Series: Early days [17]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 02:50:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18730216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ Short Affair challenge. Prompts: absent, chew, yellowIllya's English is perfect, now he has to acquire American





	Find your own way

The instructions for finding the address were very precise. The young woman on reception – Wanda, was she called? – had written them on a sheet torn from her notepad but he would have found it quite easily without them. Unlike the centuries-old street patterns of a European city, designed – or rather _not_ designed – for people who walked everywhere and already knew where they were going, this wouldn’t be a difficult city to find one’s way around in. Its grid pattern was much simpler, if a little inhuman in scale. But the location wasn’t as close as it had appeared on her map. The two suitcases he carried contained books and records and were beginning to weigh heavy. Convinced they had lengthened his arms by at least 30 centimetres, he was beginning to wonder if he might qualify for a cage at the zoo. He remembered, then, he ought to be thinking in feet and inches. It sounded ludicrous to think of one’s arm lengthened by a foot…

He looked up at the house – Wanda had called it a brownstone, which evidently had some particular significance – presumably its colour – and mounted the steps.

A woman came to the door when he rang the bell. “Yes?”

“I believe there is a flat - sorry, an apartment, here for me,” he said.

“I was expecting a Russian guy.”

“That will be me, I think. My name is Illya Kuryakin.”

Taking in his small stature, fair hair and big blue eyes, her grim expression softened a little. “I was expecting someone bigger. And darker,” she said bafflingly. “Come in. I’m Marcy, I’ll show you up.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind,” he said. In England, they expected you to say thank you all the time – it didn’t mean anything at all, it just punctuated this kind of conversation, but this woman stared at him as if he’d uttered a blasphemy.

“You’re a bit different,” she said. “Where d’you learn that, kid?”

“London,” he replied.

“That’s not Russia.”

“No, it’s where I was working until yesterday.”

She shook her head and continued up the stairs. The apartment was on the top floor. Used to dragging his belongings up many flights of stairs, he was unfazed by the lack of a lift – ah, no, he must remember to call them elevators here. At the top, she showed him how to operate the security system, “I’m not here to protect you, kid, you have to take responsibility yourself,” and let him in. “I don’t clean or get provisions in for residents,” she added, watching him drop the two cases with relief and flex his arms.

“That’s the bedroom… this side is the bathroom and the kitchen, along there is the sitting room,” she pattered, machine-gun style. “Part-furnished. You’ll be bringing your own stuff later, I guess.”

“I don’t have any stuff,” said the young man and pointed to the cases. “Just those.”

Again, she stared. “Please yourself,” she said. “Make yourself at home. There’s bedlinen and towels in the closet – you know how to make up a bed?”

“Of course,” he said. The sweet smile that accompanied his reply surprised her into smiling back. It improved her care-worn looks considerably.

Left alone, Kuryakin looked around the apartment. He first made use of the bathroom – and discovered it had a shower rather than a bath. He turned it on to see if it worked and its gush startled him by the quantity and its heat. Accustomed to enamel baths that took half an hour to fill and cooled the water, this was a revelation; so was actual hot water without having to ask for it, put money in a meter, or spend hours heating kettles and pans of water.

The walls were painted pale yellow, quite a cheering colour on a grey evening. Soap and towel were absent, however. He had a sliver of soap in his case and now remembered she’d said towels were in the closet. What was a closet?

Investigating the bedroom, he looked for and found sheets and towels. Returning to the short hallway, he explored further. In the kitchen, he opened cupboards and found a small amount of crockery and some pans. There was also a refrigerator (empty and switched off) and a stove. The cutlery looked cheap: he tested the tensile strength of a fork and, unsurprised, found it lacking. He bent it back into shape before returning it to the drawer. Last of all, he looked around the sitting room which contained a sofa and small bookcase. It was at least four meters square. So much space!

<><><> 

The following morning, he met his new partner Napoleon Solo, who asked casually how he’d found his accommodation.

“It’s very nice.” Then his stomach rumbled, embarrassing him.

Solo, far from tactfully ignoring it, said, “Didn’t you eat this morning?”

Kuryakin shook his head. “I haven’t had time to get anything in.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want you to chew your own shoe leather – let’s go down to the commissary and get you some breakfast.”

“Is there time?”

“Sure. We have half an hour – time for coffee and a roll.”

Kuryakin’s heart sank. A roll. Still, there would probably be some margarine to go with it.

The breakfast array opened his eyes to more evidence of American life. Napoleon suggested he choose something from the display and went to get coffees. Turning, he found his new partner had piled his plate high with an extraordinary variety of food, and was already part way through it before they’d even sat down.

“When did you last eat?” he asked curiously.

“I had something on the plane yesterday.”

“Nothing since? Didn’t they show you the commissary when you arrived?”

“I expect they forgot. It was late. They thought I should go to the apartment and settle in first.”

“Well, this’ll do you good. You’re looking better already.” He then glanced at his watch, “Sorry, we’re due at the morning briefing. It’s time we went.”

Kuryakin rose hurriedly, swallowing a final mouthful. “I’m ready.”

“Relax, partner. You’re among friends.”

<><><><> 


End file.
